


Old Time Rock and Roll

by Lady Divine (fhartz91)



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Married Couple, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 15:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6912166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian is making breakfast for his husband when a certain song comes on the radio, reminding him of one of the best times in his life...</p><p>Inspired by a text post by @filledwiththislight - http://lady--divine.tumblr.com/post/129258950736/ladydivine-iamthefoxqueen-just-imagine-for (Okay, this took forever to write because I kept getting off topic. In fact, there’s one other of these that’s just about done that’s a little more true to the original post, so...there’s that. I hope you all like it anyway <3)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Time Rock and Roll

It starts as a single slide across the floor in Sebastian’s socked feet as he maneuvers around the stove to get from the fridge to the pantry, ending with a sassier than usual spin off the ball of his right foot – a relic left over from his gone, but never forgotten, show choir days. Despite the angst and drama of high school (a great deal of it self-inflicted), performing on stage with the Warblers was one of the best experiences of his life.

Music and dance were two of his greatest stress relievers in high school (despite the rumor mill’s belief that he was a huge man-whore). His teen years were difficult; he can’t lie about that. Home life wasn’t the greatest (thank God for boarding schools), which _did_ turn him into a bit of a douche. But he mellowed out eventually, made some good friends, had a few laughs, graduated with honors and got accepted to Columbia. It’s also how he met Kurt, the boy who eventually became his husband…even if Sebastian treated him like crap for the better part of a year.

When Sebastian ponders the fact that they’ve been married for going on seven years now, he has to marvel at what a strange trip it’s been…and that he’s come out way luckier than he deserved.

He grapevines back to the stove to flip the French toast and put the bacon in the oven, grooving to a familiar song playing on the radio, popular when he was a senior. (He’s listening to it on the oldies station, but he’ll get depressed about that later.) Looking back, _Whistle_ may not have been the most appropriate song for a high school choir competition, but the choreography was fun as hell. He wishes Kurt had gotten the chance to see it. Frankly, Sebastian thinks that performance was the hottest he has ever looked on stage, and it wasn’t because of the steroids.

Inspired by that first slide-spin, he performs a nearly flawless half-turn-hop with a slight hip thrust. Technically, it turns out better than he expected considering he hasn’t danced in a while.

The shooting sharp pain in his lower back - _that_ he hadn’t planned.

It’s not like he let himself go or anything, but dancing – he’d put that behind him, and he kind of regrets it.

Now Kurt – he’s an amazing dancer. After they got together, while they were both attending college in New York, Sebastian always felt it was such a shame that they never got to officially share a competition stage together. They danced at their wedding, and one or two times after, the way couples do, but not the way they used to perform on stage, with choreographed dance moves and complicated six part harmonies. He pictured the two of them fighting for a solo, upstaging one another during a duet, or trying to outshine the other during a hip-hop routine.

If Kurt had stayed longer at Dalton (and if Sebastian hadn’t had his head up his ass) they might have at least gotten in an inspirational power ballad or two…the way Kurt and his  then boyfriend, Blaine, did at McKinley High School, with their show choir, the New Directions.

God, Sebastian envied them. He wouldn’t have admitted it, of course, but watching them dance on stage together was magic. And how many high school show choirs – especially in Ohio – would let an openly gay couple perform the kind of songs they performed in public? In _competition_ , no less? Sure, they did it with the Warblers once, but people usually assumed the entire student body at Dalton Academy was homosexual, so that wasn’t really a major deal.

Sebastian puts an arm out as if Kurt is dancing there with him, preparing to take Sebastian’s hand and twirl into his arms. Sebastian performs the move without his husband, doing a quick two step shuffle into a dip…and accidentally flips the spatula out of the frying pan, sending an undercooked piece of French toast catapulting to the floor.

Sebastian looks at it, egg batter spreading over the tile and into the seams.

_Well, shit._

Sebastian shrugs and goes back to his dance. The song is almost over anyway. He’s thankful Kurt’s upstairs in bed and can’t see him futzing around, reminiscing about glory days that never were, while egg soaks into the floor. Sebastian can see him now, trundling downstairs in his grey flannel pants and black Henley, sexy bed hair combed through with his fingers, tapping his foot at the sticky glop staining his precious Cabot porcelain tile, while Sebastian fumbles his way through a modified pique turn. He’d gasp, cluck his tongue in disgust, and say…

“Sebastian Smythe! What are you doing?”

Sebastian plants his foot mid-spin and grinds to a halt. He snaps his head around toward the door, slightly breathless (since it _has_ been over a decade) and stares into annoyed but amused blue eyes, set above an equally amused grin.

“Kurt.” Sebastian rights himself quickly, pulling up the waistband to his lounge pants that had started traveling south during some of his more complicated combos. “Uh, hey. What’s up?”

“I’ve been waiting on breakfast for the last forty-five minutes,” Kurt says, a chuckle wedged between his words. “I thought you might have been having some sort of French toast crisis, so I came to lend a hand.”

“Uh...no,” Sebastian says as the song ends. “No problem…no crisis…nothing like that.”

“Really?” Kurt shoots a look at the slice of toast coagulating on the floor. “So…what’s the hold up?” The right corner of his mouth twitches up an inch.

“No hold up.” Sebastian returns to his empty frying pan and the remaining egg batter beginning to burn. “I was just…”

“You were just…”

Sebastian turns off the burner and removes the pan from the heat. “I was…” Sebastian sees the grin on Kurt’s face grow and he sighs, slightly embarrassed. It’s one thing to daydream about dancing with Kurt. It’s another to get caught. Teenaged Sebastian might not have been self-conscious about it. Adult Sebastian can’t help that he is…maybe a little. “It’s not what you think.”

“That’s kind of an odd response,” Kurt says, walking over to the stove. “Do you mean to tell me that you _weren’t_ dancing in our kitchen? That you weren’t daydreaming about what it was like to be the captain of the Warblers?” Kurt stops directly in front of him, snaking his arms around his waist. “That you weren’t being completely carefree…and _sexy_?”

Sebastian watches the way his husband’s eyes settle on his mouth for a moment, and he grins, feeling the conceited Dalton boy in him come back for an appearance.

“Okay, maybe it _was_ kind of what it looked like,” Sebastian admits. “I didn’t think I’d get caught.”

“Well, I think I need to catch you more often,” Kurt mutters, closing in on Sebastian’s lips. “It’s nice to see you still know how to move.”

“So, you like that, huh?”

“I do,” Kurt says, pecking kisses to Sebastian’s jaw. “In fact, I’m thinking we should go back upstairs…turn on the stereo…climb into bed…and you can show me what other moves you’ve got.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. Kurt’s usually not this forward at 9:55 in the morning. This is definitely an intriguing turn of events. If he could only go back in time and turn on Kurt’s seventeen-year-old counterpart this much. How hot would that have been?

“What about breakfast?” Sebastian asks as Kurt’s lips brush his cheek, ever so slightly, on their way down his neck.

Kurt takes Sebastian’s hand and walks backward, pulling him toward the staircase. “It can wait.”

“Annnnd…what about the mess on the floor?” Sebastian’s playing a dangerous game bringing it up. He knows this can possibly put off the proceedings for fifteen minutes, and by that time, Kurt may have cooled down, but he needs to know how much his husband wants him. Kurt stops, no doubt weighing the pros and cons of letting egg and milk seep into his finish and ruin his tile against having sex with his husband, which they just did close to an hour ago, and will probably do a handful more times before tomorrow morning. Kurt shrugs and tugs harder.

“Meh,” Kurt decides, dragging Sebastian at a quicker pace. “Leave it. We’ll buy a rug.”

 


End file.
